


Do not Make me Burn my own City Down.

by musicalgirl4474



Series: Whumptober 2020 [30]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27294301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalgirl4474/pseuds/musicalgirl4474
Summary: Hamilton's desire to have command is getting more and more dangerous as he puts himself into the thick of the fighting.Whumptober #30Now Where Did That Come From?Wound Reveal/Ignoring an Injury/Internal Organ InjuryIt's the first two.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956718
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Do not Make me Burn my own City Down.

The outcome of the battle was . . . well, Washington would be lying to himself if he said that he ever considered the outcome of a battle to be _good_ , but it was better than it could have been. More of the British dead than his own men, and the redcoats had been routed. A better day than most they had lived through recently.

Hamilton rode up to him, straight and strong in the saddle. Still . . .

“Is the blood yours?”

Hamilton’s right side was covered in the tacky red substance, but it did not appear to be fresh.

“No sir, not mine,” Alexander dismissed, moving his mare to stand beside Washington’s charger. There is silence for a moment. Washington sighed internally; there were very few reasons why Hamilton would seek him out right after a battle. “General-”

“You know very well why I cannot give you a command,” Washington said, and winced at how his sharp words made Alexander’s face flinch. He makes sure to gentle his voice. “My staff are more important to the cause than any single soldier or officer,” he says, but Hamilton shakes his head.

“Then why are the others given command at some point or another?” Alexander asks, voice tight with frustration.

“Of all of my aides throughout this war,” Washington said, looking forward over the muddy field where the battle had taken place, “you would be the most impossible to replace. It is not connections you bring us, it is unmitigated, unmatched skill.”

“But-”

“You are my chief of staff, Hamilton,” Washington said, feeling quite tired of the boy’s constant inability to see how important he was in his current position. “Our headquarters may become crippled without you to see to everything.”

“I-” but Hamilton interrupted himself with a sigh. “Yes Sir.”

“Go clean up, Lieutenant Colonel,” Washington ordered, and looked to his side in time to see Hamilton nod and urge his horse to turn and walk away. In time to see new blood begin soaking through the shoulder of the boy’s coat. “Hamilton!”

The boy twists to look at him, looking confused. “Sir?”

“None of that blood is yours.” He said it flatly, but there was no mistaking it as anything but a question.

“I already told you it is not, Sir,” he said, and Washington would have been angered by the insubordination if Lafayette himself had not seemed aware of his own injury just a few weeks ago. The energy of battle tended to distract young men from their own pains.

“Then why is there new blood?”

Hamilton looked down at himself then, and Washington heard the surprise coloring his voice when the boy said “I feel nothing, Sir.”

The boy really was too strong for his own good. “I will escort you to the medical tent then,” he said. “And if you would, take note of the medical items we need to acquire while you are there.” That at least should keep the boy in the medical tent long enough for Doctor Mann to bandage him and get some laudanum into his system. 

Alexander’s horse, at least, seemed to be uninjured, and they made good pace back to camp and to the medical tent. Still, the boy is a few shades noticeably paler when they stop. The tent is by no definition empty, and there are men sitting slouched in chairs to see leg injuries seen to. One of Mann’s assistants takes a quick look at Alexander and directs him to a bench.

“Do as they say my boy,” Washington said as he helped Alexander out of the saddle, and the boy made a face.

“Not yours,” he muttered, but it seems to be a reflex, as he moves to the bench otherwise quietly. Washington goes back to see about the clean up after the battle.

It is as the sun is going down that Doctor Mann finds him, as he takes a moment to rest in his office. The doctor waves down the offer of a glass of whisky and instead stays standing. “Hamilton will need considerably more rest than he probably thinks,” he said. “His right leg is fractured, as is the collar bone attached to the right shoulder. He was shot at least three times. The shoulder, his side, and his leg. That he was able to stand upright, or even sit a horse, as long as he did after receiving those injuries tells me that not only does he have little care for his own life, but he would make a good commander. He would be a steady figure for the soldiers to watch.”

“Not you as well,” Washington sighed, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “I cannot give him field command. Apart from how important he is on my staff, he is too precious to me. Sometimes I feel that he is the last string holding my sanity in place.”

“I understand that sir,” Mann said gently. “But this is war, and I am a doctor. I will make suggestions that I think will save lives in the long run. As General, you make decisions based on winning the war. Hamilton makes decisions based on his future. We are old men, Washington, we do not have the hunger for a legacy that these young men have.” Washington hummed, but closed his eyes. “If you want my honest opinion, giving Hamilton some occasional tastes at command will keep him from acting quite as flippant with his own life as he has been lately.”

Really, Washington did not want to put Hamilton in any danger, ever. But the doctor may be correct. If Hamilton was constantly trying to prove himself worthy of a command which he was more than worthy of, he was going to get himself killed.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Should Washington let Alexander lead a few missions in order to curb his destructive behavior? Or would it make things worse? I honestly don't know.


End file.
